


Mrs. Wilson's Boys

by PR Zed (przed)



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Dialogue-Only, M/M, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Polyamory, civil war never happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 14:53:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13216137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/przed/pseuds/PR%20Zed
Summary: How Darlene Wilson ended up adopting a couple of stray super soldiers.





	Mrs. Wilson's Boys

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a short Sam/Bucky story, but turned into 12K of Sam/Steve/Bucky told almost entirely through conversations with Sam's mom.

"Guess who I met today, Mom?"

"Colin Powell." 

"Nope. Your military crush still hasn't come to visit me at the VA. Guess again."

"He may be a Republican, but Powell is a handsome man. The President?"

"Nope again."

"Obama does occasionally visit the VA.”

“Not my office. Guess again.”

“I have no idea, Sam. Who was it?"

"Captain America."

"Captain American? Captain America is not a real person." 

"He is so. I was out for my usual run, and there he was, just running around the Mall. He's a nice guy. Well, mostly. He's kind of a jerk about how fast he can run. But he's not at all what you'd expect. I told him he should come 'round the VA sometime, and I think he might." 

"Samuel Thomas Wilson, did you flirt with Captain America?"

"I didn't flirt, Mom. He's just…nice."

"I'll bet he's nice. All those muscles."

"Why did I ever come out to you?"

"Because I taught too many kids who were in the closet and miserable, so I raised you to be true to yourself and always be honest. But what else did I always tell you?"

"Don't get involved with white boys."

"Right, don't get involved with white boys."

"It is 2014, Mom. Mixed race couples are a thing. Have been forever."

"Your sisters I don't worry about. They always find sensible boys. But you? You always pick the worst boys to get involved with. And the white boys you find are double the trouble."

"Not always. Riley was a good man."

"Riley _was_ a good man, but Riley is gone. But some of your other boyfriends…"

"Well, Steve isn't my boyfriend. I just met him."

"You're calling Captain America, Steve?" 

"Steve's his name, Mom."

"You flirted with him."

"I told you, I didn't flirt." 

"You invited him to the VA."

"He's a soldier. I thought he might want to see the work we do at the VA."

"Uh-huh."

"He's just a guy."

"Captain America is a lot of things, but I don't think he's just a guy."

"Anyway, I think he might need a regular sort of friend, not a boyfriend."

"Well, you watch yourself, Samuel. I don't want to see you heartbroken over another straight white boy."

"Who says he's straight?”

“History. Unless history was wrong about him and Peggy Carter.”

“Bisexuality is also a thing, Mom. And we both know that history is frequently wrong.”

“I suppose people do wonder about him and that Barnes boy.”

“That's Sergeant Barnes to you, Mom. And I don't really care if he's bi or straight. Because I don't want him to be my boyfriend."

"Uh-huh." 

"I'm thinking of coming up at the end of the month."

"Are we changing the subject, now?"

" _Mom_."

"Fine. We're changing the subject. Your aunties will be pleased. They've been asking about you. Your sisters, too."

"I'll take a couple of extra days. So I can see all the aunties, and spend some extra time with my favourite Wilson woman."

"Hmmph."

"See you, Mom."

"You take care of yourself. And don't get involved with that white boy."

* * *

"Hello."

"Guess who came to the VA today, Mom."

"I don't even get a hello?"

"Okay. Hello, Mom. Guess who came to the VA today."

"Colin Powell."

"No, not Colin Powell. Try again."

"Oh my God. It was that white superhero boyfriend of yours, wasn't it?"

"His name is Steve. And he's not my boyfriend."

" _Steve_ is going to break your heart, sweetie."

" _Steve_ just came to see the work we do at the VA." 

"And did he get a good look? At the work you do?"

" _Mom_ , it ain't like that."

"It _isn't_ like what? It _isn't_ like your white superhero boyfriend came to check you out?"

"You're not an English teacher anymore, Mom. You don't get to correct my grammar. And I told you before, he's not my boyfriend. In fact, I think maybe he really _does_ need a regular sort of friend. He seems sort of lost." 

"And my baby boy is the friend this lost superhero needs?"

"Maybe. He asked me if I'd lost someone. And I just opened my mouth and told him about Riley. Not everything. But about how he'd got shot down and all I could do was watch."

"Oh, Sam."

"Yeah."

"You didn't owe him that."

"I kinda felt like I did, though. The way he asked the question…he knew exactly what he was asking about. Like he'd lost someone himself."

"Like the Barnes boy."

“Sergeant Barnes was his best friend, Mom.”

"Kinda like how you want to be his _best friend_?"

"You're hopeless."

"Do you have another date planned with this _best friend_?"

"I'd have to have had one date to have another one."

"So, you're not counting him coming to the VA as a date?"

"I'm never calling you again, Mom."

"Why don't you bring your _best friend_ with you when you come to visit?"

"Not on your life."

"Your aunties would love to meet a superhero."

"I wouldn't trust my aunties alone in a room with a superhero. They'd eat him alive."

"I'll make your favourite pie. I bet Steve would love apple pie, too."

"Not going to happen."

"Hmmph. But you're still coming?"

"I wouldn't miss a visit with my favourite Wilson woman for the world."

"See that you don't."

* * *

"Hi, Mom."

"Sam? Sam! Oh, thank God."

"Mom, it's okay. I'm okay. You don't have to cry."

"Okay. I— Okay. It's just, I didn't know. If you were alive."

"I'm fine, Mom." 

"But I wasn't sure. There were things on the news about Captain America being a traitor, and some government people showed up at my door and they said you'd stolen something, and there was that battle in Washington, and you weren't answering your phone, and I didn't know what to think."

"Are _you_ okay? They didn't threaten you, did they? They didn't hurt you?"

"I'm fine. I know when to keep my mouth shut. I played the innocent, flustered retired schoolteacher and they mostly left me alone. But what about you? Are you really okay? _Were_ you in that fight in Washington? When I saw your boyfriend fighting there and I couldn't get hold of you, I was worried sick."

"He's not my boyfriend." 

"You keep saying that."

"It's true, Mom."

"Fine, he's not your boyfriend. Did you fight in Washington?"

"They were going to kill a lot of people. Steve couldn't let that happen, and neither could I."

"Did you fight?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Oh, Sam."

"I was doing what you taught me to. Standing up for what's right. And I wasn't on my own. There was Steve and his friend Nat. And there were a lot of people in SHIELD doing what was right.

"Nat? Natasha Romanoff? Isn't she an Avenger?"

"I guess."

"You were fighting with Avengers? But you're not a superhero. You weren't even a regular soldier. You were pararescue. That's what I told myself every day you were on deployment. That you weren't in the middle of the fighting. That you were just helping people."

"I have some skills, Mom."

"Wait. Wait a minute. Is one of those skills flying? Are you the one they're calling Falcon?"

"I can't—" 

"You are, aren't you! Samuel Thomas Wilson, you could have gotten yourself killed!"

"But I didn't, Mom."

"I didn't raise my boy to be a superhero."

"I'm not a superhero. The real superheroes needed my help, is all."

"Oh my God."

"I'm okay, Mom."

"Where are you? Right this minute?"

"I'm at the hospital."

"What?"

"It's not for me. I'm fine. Don't worry about me. I've just got a few bruises. It's for Steve."

"Captain America got hurt badly enough to be in the hospital, and you don't want me to worry?"

"The fighting's over, Mom. It's all going to be fine."

"That's not what the news is saying. They're saying this is going to take a long time to straighten out."

"Well, they're probably not wrong. But I think the fighting part is over."

"I hope so."

"Listen, Mom, I've gotta go. I want to be there when Steve wakes up."

"Your boyfriend—"

"He's not—"

"Okay, your _best friend_ was hurt badly enough to be unconscious?"

"I guess they didn't put that part on the news, huh?"

"No, they didn't. You look after yourself, Sam."

"I will."

"And you look after that friend of yours, too. Tell him he has to stay alive long enough to meet your mom."

"I don't know if—"

"You fought with him, Sam. I want to meet the man. Boyfriend or friend, I don't care. I want to meet the man who fought beside my boy."

"Yeah. Okay. I'm sure he'll want to meet you."

"Okay."

"Love you, Mom."

"Love you, too."

* * *

"Hey, Mom."

"Sam! Where are you? Is Steve okay? Are you finally coming for— Oh, the doorbell just rang."

"That's a courier. Don't say anything more. Just hang up and answer the door. I'll call you back in a minute."

"But—" 

"Please, Mom."

"Okay."  
…

"Hello."

"You got the phone."

"You said it was a courier. It wasn't a courier. It was Tony Stark. Why did Tony Stark show up at my door and give me a phone?"

"Huh. I got Steve to ask Tony to send you a secure phone. I didn't think Tony would deliver it himself."

"Okay, you're on a first name basis with Captain America _and_ Iron Man. How did this happen, Sam?"

"I don't know myself."

"And why do I need a secure phone?"

"Well. Um. Steve thought he should explain it to you."

"Steve? What—"

"Hello, Mrs. Wilson."

"Captain Rogers."

"You can call me Steve."

"Then you can call me Darlene. Now, can you please tell me what's going on?"

"Well, I have something I have to do, and your son has offered to help, but he wanted a way to stay in touch with you, so I asked Tony to get you a phone that couldn't be traced."

"And just what is this mysterious thing you have to do that my son is going to help you with?"

"Well. Um."

"Put my son back on."

"Mrs. Wilson, I'm not sure—"

"I told you, it's Darlene. And you put my son back on _right now_."

"Did you use the schoolteacher voice on Steve? He looks like you used the schoolteacher voice on him."

"I asked him what the two of you are doing. Now, I'm asking you."

"I don't think I can—"

"This phone is secure, right? This phone that Tony Stark himself gave me cannot be hacked, right? So you can damn well tell me what you and your superhero boyfriend are getting up to."

"Mom! Language! What would the church ladies say?"

"They'd tell you to tell your mother the damn truth. Now what's going on?"

"Okay, okay. Steve's saying I can tell you. He's also looking a bit scared. I didn't think there was anything that could scare Captain America."

"Don't stall, Sam. What the hell are you up to?"

"We're looking for Sergeant Barnes."

"Steve's friend? But he died during the war."

"Turns out he didn't. Turns out that Hydra captured him and brainwashed him and turned him into a weapon."

"Oh, Sam."

"Yeah. It's as bad as you think and then some."

"But if Hydra made him a weapon…"

"He _was_ Hydra's weapon. But he saved, Steve. Pulled him out of the Potomoc, then took off. At least that's what Steve thinks."

"What do _you_ think?"

"Yeah, well. Steve was sort of unconscious when all this saving went on. What, man? You know it's true. He's looking at me like I just shot his dog."

"Sam, if that boy is still under Hydra control, he could hurt you both."

"That boy is nearly a hundred years old. But yeah, point taken."

"What do you think?"

"I think Barnes probably saved him. But I also think you don't shake off that kind of conditioning in a couple of minutes. I think he's still probably dangerous. And he didn't exactly hang around, so I don't think he wants to be found."

"Maybe you shouldn't be the one to help, Sam. Maybe you should leave this to the real superheroes."

"Steve trusts me. And I told you before, I have skills. I can handle myself."

"Oh, right. My boy can fly."

"You could at least try to sound impressed. Flying's a cool skill to have. And Tony made me a new pair of wings."

"Why did you need a new pair of wings?"

"Because…never mind."

"What happened to your old wings?"

"Maybe Tony just wanted to make me better wings."

"Maybe you're lying to your mother."

"Would I lie to you, Mom?"

"You've lied to me before. You and your sisters never did tell me how you managed to dye the cat purple."

"I was ten. And we didn't actually lie to you about that. We just never told you the truth."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"I'll be fine, Mom. Steve and I, we'll watch out for each other."

"If you say so."

"I do."

"Okay, but let me talk to Steve again."

"Mrs. Rogers?"

"I told you, call me Darlene."

"I, uh, it just seems disrespectful to call a friend's mother by her first name."

"Well, I can't fault your manners."

"But?"

"Did I say but?"

"I heard an unspoken but."

"Okay. You're a polite boy, and I know your Sam's friend and he trusts you. But, I'm not sure I can trust you with my son's life."

"I'd do anything to protect Sam."

"Sam tells me the two of you are looking for the Barnes boy."

"Bucky. Yes."

"And the Barnes boy—"

"Bucky."

"—Bucky was brainwashed by Hydra?"

"Yeah."

"Then tell me one thing. What would you do if Bucky attacked my son?"

"I…I wouldn't let him hurt Sam."

"I'd like to believe that, Steve. But I'm also feeling like there's more than friendship between you and Bucky. Am I right?"

"I'm not…it wasn't like…I mean—"

"It's okay. I'm not judging you. I've known Sam liked boys at least as much as girls since before his voice dropped. That's not a problem for me."

"Then, okay. Yeah. Bucky was...he was everything to me. He believed in me when no one else did. He looked after me whenever I got sick, and he always backed me up in a fight. After all that, well, I owe it to him to bring him back from what Hydra did to him."

"You love him."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I appreciate your honesty. I hope you'll appreciate mine. If you let Bucky hurt my boy, I will have more than words for you, Steve Rogers. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Now, let me talk to my son."

"Okay, Steve looks like you used worse than the schoolteacher voice on him. What did you say?"

"I made sure Steve and I understand each other. And now I'm going to make sure you understand me. I know the Barnes boy is Steve's friend, but don't you go sacrificing yourself for either of them."

"I'll look after myself, Mom."

"And don't you let him hurt Steve, either. It doesn't sound like Steve has a lick of sense where that boy is concerned."

"You're not wrong, Mom."

"And make sure you call. No use me having this fancy Stark phone if you're not going to use it."

"I'll call when I can."

"That's all I can ask. When you're done with this crazy quest, I still want to meet Steve."

"I'll bring him back to New York myself."

"I'm counting on it. Love you, Sam."

"I love you, too, Mom."

* * *

"Hello."

"Hey, Mom."

"Where are you this time?"

"Just outside Tacoma. There was word about someone looking like Barnes hitchhiking out here."

"And was it him?"

"It might have been. He's long gone, though."

"Where are you off to next?"

"I don't know. Probably Seattle. Then maybe Taipei. We have a lot of leads. We're trying to decide which one looks most promising."

"How is Steve?"

"Fine."

"How is he, really?"

"Really? Not good. We get a lead; he gets his hopes up. And then when it doesn't work out and we don't find Barnes, he gets the disappointed face. I really hate the disappointed face."

"Can I talk to him?"

"You're not going to use the schoolteacher voice on him again, are you?"

"No, I don't think I need to do that again."

"Okay, then let me go get him."

"Hello Mrs. Wilson."

"I'm never going to get you to call me Darlene, am I?"

"Probably not."

"Fine."

"Did you have something you wanted to tell me?"

"Not really. I just wanted to ask how you're doing."

"I'm fine."

"You don't need to hide how you feel from me. I'm not the enemy. And I'm not your superior officer."

"I…"

"Steve, are you still there?"

"Yeah."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. It's just… you remind me of someone. Of Bucky's mother. She always looked out for me, but was also a little terrifying."

"Oh, really?"

"God, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. You're not _terrifying_ terrifying. Neither was Winifred Barnes. She was a great woman. She was my mom's best friend. And she looked out for me after my mom passed."

"Then, I'm honoured to remind you of her."

"It's nice, knowing Sam has family that cares about him."

"Do you have any family left?"

"No, ma'am. It was only ever me and my mom. There's probably a few Rogers left in Ireland, but I never knew them."

"Well, you feel free to consider us family."

"You don't have to…you don't even know me."

"I know Sam likes and trusts you enough to help you find Bucky. That's good enough for me."

"Oh!"

"And any time the two of you need to take a break, I've got room for you both to visit."

"I hope we can take you up on that soon."

"I hope you can, too."

"Listen, I've got to pack up so we can get back on the road. But thank you. For your concern. And your invitation."

"You're welcome. Can I talk to my boy, now?"

"Look at that, you made Captain America smile."

"Your mother is a woman of many skills."

"That you are. I'll talk to you, soon, Mom."

"Take care of yourself. And take care of that superhero friend of yours."

"Not superhero boyfriend?"

"I'm done teasing about that unless you tell me different."

"Thanks, Mom. Take care of yourself."

* * *

"Sam?"

"Did I wake you up? I woke you up, didn't I? God, I'm sorry, Mom. I screwed up the time zones."

"Is everything okay? You don't sound…Where are you?"

"Bali. I think. Some beach town in Indonesia, anyway. I wish we were here for a vacation."

"Any more sign of Bucky?"

"We got close this time. Tracked him down to a guest house he was staying in, but he bugged out before we got there. We didn't miss him by much, though. There was a cigarette still burning in an ashtray in his room."

"How did Steve take it?"

"He threw the ashtray through the window. He felt really bad, after. Paid for the window, and we're staying in the best room tonight for twice the usual rate. Even when he's angry, Steve's a stand up guy."

"I hope you find that boy soon."

"So do I."

"Where's Steve now?"

"He went for a walk. Said he needed to clear his head."

"You give him my best. Tell him I'm thinking about him."

"I should let you go. Let you get back to sleep."

"Take care, Sam."

"You, too, Mom."

* * *

"Sam?"

"Um, no, Mrs. Wilson. It's Steve. I just borrowed Sam's phone to call you."

"Steve! Is everything all right? Is Sam safe?"

"No! I mean yeah! Sam's safe. He's fine. Everything's fine."

"Then how about you? Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"If you don't mind me saying, Sweetie, you don't sound okay."

"I'm…it's just…"

"Sam said you were upset that you hadn't found Bucky yet."

"Upset. Yeah. You could call it that. I sort of broke a window."

"Sam mentioned that, too."

"I don't usually break windows. Not unless there's a fight. But I'm sick of it."

"Of what?"

"I don't know. Of not knowing, I guess. I don't know anything. I don't even know if I should be looking for Bucky. What if he doesn't want me to find him? What if I'm doing everything wrong?"

"First off, take a deep breath."

"Okay."

"Did you take a deep breath?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"Okay, you sound better. Now I can tell you that from what I know, and it's mostly from the history books and what little you've told me, I think Bucky would absolutely want you to look for him. Even if he doesn't know it yet."

"But how can _I_ know?"

"You can't, Sweetie. But you can keep doing what you think is right. That seems to work for you. And don't worry about what you can't change."

"I suppose."

"Now, why don't we talk about something else? Are you still in Bali?"

"No. We just landed in Hong Kong. Natasha has a contact who's lending us a place in Kowloon."

"I've never been to Asia. Never even been to California. What's it like?"

"It's hot and crowded, but there's a real energy here. And the food's fantastic. We went to a night market last night and I tried deep fried cuttlefish. It was amazing. I like the people, too. They can be blunt, but kind. Reminds me a bit of Brooklyn in the '30s. The neighbourhood where we are, people seem to look out for each other. I helped the lady next door change a light bulb, and she showed us the best places to buy food. She's teaching me some Cantonese!"

"People will always look out for each other."

"I hope so."

"You feeling better?"

"Yeah. I am."

"That's good. You call me any time you need to. From your own phone even."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wilson."

"You're welcome, Steve. You take care of yourself. And tell that son of mine I told him to take care of you, too."

"I will."

* * *

"Hello."

"We found him."

"You found Bucky? Are you all okay? Is Steve okay?"

"We're all okay. Except maybe for a few bruises. But, yeah, we're all okay."

"Where are— What was that?"

"Shit." 

"Are you under attack? Is everything okay?"

"I've got to go, Mom."

"Sam? Sam!"

* * *

"Mom."

"Samuel Thomas Wilson, don't you dare do that to me again!"

"I'm sorry."

"I've been carrying the phone for hours, waiting for you to call and thinking something had happened to you. Thinking something had happened to all of you."

"I'm really sorry."

"What _did_ happen? Did someone find you?"

"I can't—"

"You are _not_ going to leave me hanging like that. Now, what happened?"

"You can tone back the schoolteacher voice, Mom."

"Sam."

"Okay, okay. It was Barnes."

"And?"

"And he's not doing so good. I don't think you want to know the details."

"I'm not some innocent. I taught high school in the city. I've had students go off to fight in wars. I've seen what war has done to some of those kids. I've seen what war did to _you_. You don't have to protect me."

"I know I don't _have_ to protect you. But maybe I _want_ to."

"Trouble shared is trouble halved."

"Mom."

"Don't 'Mom' me like you're sixteen and trying to get out of taking out the trash."

"Then don't pull your teacher platitudes on me."

"I won't, if you'll tell me what the hell happened."

"I—"

"Sam?"

"Fine. Okay. It was a flashback."

"A flashback?"

"Yeah, a genuine, PTSD-driven flashback. Except I think Barnes' PTSD is on steroids, what with how much those Hydra assholes fried his brain."

"Oh, Sam. Are you all okay?"

"I don't know about okay, but we're all breathing. Barnes got it in his head that Steve was someone else, and he might've kind of attacked him. It took the two of us to restrain him until he got back in touch with reality. Barnes has locked himself in his room, and Steve's sort of curled up on himself on the couch."

"And how are you?"

"Bruised. Barnes caught me with that arm of his a couple times. But otherwise I'm okay. I'm worried about both of them, though. When he finally broke out of the flashback, Barnes looked horrified at what he'd done. And Steve, well, that's the most broken I've ever seen him."

"Let me talk to Steve."

"Steve! My mom wants to talk to you. Don't look at me like that, man. If you don't want to talk to her, you can tell her yourself."

"Hello Mrs. Wilson."

"Hi Steve. I just wanted to check how you're doing. And don't give me any crap about how you're fine."

"I'm…okay, I'm not fine."

"You're allowed."

"I just…I thought when we found Bucky, that would be the hard part done. And it's not. Not by a long shot."

"Living's hard work, Steve. But I know you can do it."

"I hope so. I know I have to. For Bucky's sake."

"And for your own sake, too."

"And for Sam's. I made sure I protected him, you know, as best I could. When Bucky got lost in that memory, I made sure I took the brunt of it."

"Oh, Steve. I don't want you to sacrifice yourself, any more than I want you to sacrifice Sam."

"Oh."

"I want to see all three of you here, safe and sound. I've got room for all of you here. I'm looking forward to meeting you both."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wilson."

"You're welcome, Steve. Now you put that boy of mine back on the phone."

"Mom?"

"I'm going to tell you what I told Steve a little while ago. Don't you dare let Bucky hurt Steve. Or I'll have words for you."

"I won't, Mom."

"Okay. Now, you go and look after those boys."

* * *

"Mrs. Wilson?"

"Hello, Steve. How are you? Are you getting enough sleep?"

"I'm getting by."

"And how's Bucky?"

"He's…he's just…"

"Do you need to take a deep breath, Steve?"

"I'm sorry. I felt like I wanted to talk to you, but I'm not sure what to say."

"Has he had any more flashbacks?"

"A few. Nothing like the first one, though. Mostly we can talk him through them. Get him back to the present."

"That's good."

"I keep telling him that. That he's made progress. But it's not fast enough for him. And I get that. It was tough when they thawed me out of the ice. Nothing made sense, and then there were aliens and things _really_ didn't make sense. And I didn't even have decades of Hydra brainwashing to deal with."

"We each have our own burdens, Steve. Where are you?"

"We're a house on Lamma island. It belongs to one of Tony's friends, so it's a bit on the opulent side, but it's quiet. Well, sort of quiet. The insects are nearly as loud as traffic in Brooklyn, but our nearest neighbours are a mile away, which is as out of the way as you can get in Hong Kong."

"I want you to know, when you're ready, my invitation still stands. I've got room for all three of you."

"That's…really kind of you. I don't think Bucky's fit to be any sort of company right now, but as soon as he is, I'll mention it to him."

"You do that. I want to finally meet the two of you in person."

"Me, too, Mrs. Wilson. Me, too."

* * *

"Hello."

"Hello Mrs. Wilson."

"Who is this?"

"Um…"

"How did you get this number?"

"I-"

"Whoever this is, if you've hurt my son or his friends, I will make sure you pay for it."

"It's not…I'm not…I'd never…"

"Who _is_ this?"

"B-B-B-"

"Bucky?"

"Yeah. But could… could you…"

"Take a deep breath, son."

"Could you call me James? Please?"

"I absolutely can do that, James. Now, can you tell me if Steve and my son are okay? You gave me a bit of a start."

"They're safe. I wouldn't let anything happen to them."

"That's good to hear, James. And it's good to hear your voice. I know how important it was for Steve to find you."

"Steve…he…he said I should call you. Said talking to you makes him feel better."

"It's nice of him to say that. Are Steve and my boy looking after you all right?"

"Yeah. They've been…good. They're both...just...good."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"Except…"

"Except what, James?"

"Except Steve's cooking is awful. Sam and I have banned him from the kitchen. Oh, Stevie must have heard me. I can see him glaring at me from the living room. But it's true."

"I'm sure he does his best."

"Well, his best cooking ain't good."

"Isn't."

"Isn't good. Sam said you were an English teacher. Said that you're always correcting his grammar."

"What else did he say?"

"Only good stuff. That you're kind. That you make the best apple pie."

"I have been told my apple pie is good."

"I remember…my mom. She made apple pie."

"Maybe I can bake a pie for you. You can tell me if it's as good as your mom's."

"That…that'd be real nice."

"I've already told Steve this, but you're welcome in my home, whenever you feel ready to visit."

"That's…that's… Thank you, Mrs. Wilson."

"You're welcome, James."

"I think Sam wants to talk to you."

"Hey, Mom."

"Sam. How are things going?"

"Good. Better, anyway. Barnes is going longer between flashbacks, and Steve's looking almost happy."

"That's good to hear."

"And I think talking to you really was a good thing for Barnes. This is about the first time I've seen him without his shoulders hiked up to his ears."

"Well, you tell him he can call me anytime. I've already invited him for a visit when he's ready."

"Mom, I don't know if-"

"When he's ready, Sam. When all of you think he's ready."

"That might be a long time."

"That's all right. I'm not going anywhere."

"Well, I've got to go. We promised Barnes a hike down to the beach."

"You look after both those boys. And yourself."

"I will, Mom."

* * *

"Hello."

"Hi, Mrs. Wilson."

"Steve! It's nice to hear from you. How are you?"

"Good?"

"You don't sound too sure about that, Steve."

"No, things are good. I just…I think part of me didn't think I'd ever get Bucky back. And now that I have, it's overwhelming sometimes. Even after all we've gone through, I still look at him sometimes and can't believe how lucky I am."

"That's good, Steve. And how is James doing?"

"He's better. He's sleeping okay and starting to eat better. He's even smiling every once in a while. I'd forgotten how much I missed his smile."

"That's wonderful, Steve. You tell him I'm thinking of him."

"I wanted to thank you for talking to him, Mrs. Wilson. It really did help."

"I'm glad. I worry about you. All of you boys. I had my pastor say a prayer for you all this past Sunday."

"Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. That's…that's really nice. Bucky's mom used to light candles for me, when I got sick. Always made me feel like someone was watching out for me. And I don't just mean God."

"I'm happy to watch out for you all."

"Well, I should get going. Bucky's making dinner and he wants me to chop vegetables. Said it's the only thing he's willing to trust me to do in the kitchen."

"He did tell me about your cooking."

"I'll be he did. I'm not that bad, really."

"I'm sure you're not."

"Bye, Mrs. Wilson."

"Take care of yourself, Steve."

* * *

"Hello."

"Hey, Mrs. Wilson."

"Hello, James. It's nice to hear from you."

"It's good to hear your voice, too, Mrs. Wilson."

"I don't suppose _you'd_ be willing to call me Darlene? Except for Steve, none of Sam's friends have called me Mrs. Wilson since he was in grade school."

"I don't think I can, Mrs. Wilson. It just wouldn't be respectful."

"You and Steve are like peas in a pod. That's exactly what he told me."

"Well, he's right some of the…Wait. Did you call me Sam's friend?"

"I'd say so. He's certainly concerned about you. He's happy that you're getting better. That sounds like a friend to me."

"I guess it does. And I guess that makes me his friend, too."

"I guess it does, James."

"That's…that's real nice."

"Not that it's not good to hear from you, but did you call for a reason?"

"Yeah, I did. I've been doing the cooking, and I was wondering if I could get your apple pie recipe. If it's not a family secret or anything."

"It's hardly a secret. I think my mother cut it out of a magazine decades ago. You're welcome to it."

"Thanks, Mrs. Wilson."

"You can thank me by baking me a pie when you come to visit."

"You've got it."

"Now, let me go get my recipe box and I'll get you that recipe."

* * *

"Hey, Mom."

"Sam! How are you? How is everyone?"

"I'm good. Steve's Steve. And Bucky, he's getting better every day."

"So, he's Bucky now? Not Barnes?"

"Yeah, well, that's all your fault. The last time he talked to you he hangs up, comes over to me and says 'Your mom says we're friends. And if we're friends, you should call me Bucky.' So, now he's Bucky and I'm Sam. At least that's what we are when he's not You Goddamn Asshole and I'm not You Insufferable Smartass."

"Sam Wilson!"

"It's all right, Mom. That's us proving we like each other."

"And what does Steve think of you _proving you like each other_?"

"He rolls his eyes and ignores us, mostly."

"Well, if Steve isn't upset, I suppose I don't need to be. But I don't want to hear you're tormenting that poor boy."

"That poor boy probably knows how to kill me with a toothpick. Not that he's going to do that anymore. But I think he can look after himself."

"That's not the kind of tormenting I was thinking of, and you know it."

"I know, Mom."

"How is he doing? Really?"

"He really is getting better every day. He can go days without a flashback. He's making a conscious decision to look after himself. And he gets annoyed with Steve when _he_ doesn't look after himself. Considering Steve's total lack of a self-preservation instinct, that's pretty hilarious. Any time Steve lets slip some of the things he's done with SHIELD, Bucky about takes his head off. Steve mentioned he's jumped out of airplanes without a parachute, and Bucky wouldn't let up about it for a day and a half. Steve thought it was okay that he only does it over water. Bucky disagreed. Strenuously."

"I hope _you_ don't start jumping out of planes without a parachute."

"I won't be jumping out of planes, period. Not without my wings, anyway."

"The less I think about you and those wings, the better."

"Sorry, Mom. I won't mention them again."

"Please don't. Did Bucky make a pie? I gave him your grandmother's recipe."

"He did indeed. You can't get really good apples over here, but his pastry was perfect."

"I'm glad to hear it. I made him promise me a pie when he comes to visit."

"I hope that'll be soon."

"Do you think he's ready?"

"Not yet. But he will be. He's…he's a really great guy, Mom. Without all the Hydra programming, he's funny and smart and he'd do anything for Steve. I think you'll really like him."

"I already do like him."

"Yeah, well, you'll like him more when you meet him in person. He doesn't smile often, but when he does he's even more handsome than Steve. And the smartass sense of humour is growing on me."

"Don't tell me you have a new crush, Sam Wilson."

"No! Absolutely not. I'm not getting in between Bucky and Steve. Not for anything. You should see the way they look at each other. It's like that Nicholas Sparks movie Vanessa made me watch once."

"Your sister does love her romance movies."

"Van loves _horrible_ romance movies. And I'm keeping her away from these two idiots as long as possible. She'll think they're dreamy."

"You're probably right."

"I'm totally right. And I am a totally right guy who should get going. Steve and Bucky went for a walk and I'm supposed to have lunch ready when they get back."

"You look after them."

"I will, Mom."

"And don't let them break your heart."

"I won't. I may just pine quietly from a distance while they have their great romance."

* * *

"Hi, Mrs. Wilson."

"Hello, James. How are you?"

"Pretty good. Keeping busy."

"With anything in particular?"

"I've pretty much taken over all the cooking. Steve's hopeless, and Sam was okay with me doing it all. He said if I've got to have a knife in my hand, he's just as glad that I'm chopping vegetables with it."

"I'm going to have words with my son."

"Nah. It's okay. I thought it was funny."

"Well, if you're sure."

"I am. Sam's why I called. I've been working my way through the stuff my mom used to cook. Steve's been ecstatic about that. Growing up, he was at our place as much as his own, and he always loved my mom's cooking. But Sam's been so great to me I thought it'd be nice to cook one of his favourites. He liked when I baked that apple pie." 

"That's very nice of you, James."

"Yeah, well, um…"

"I think I've got the perfect dish. We had a neighbour from Jamaica when Sam was growing up. She showed me how to make jerk chicken, and Sam always loved it."

"Jerk? Steve can be a jerk, but I've never heard of a chicken that was a jerk."

"It's a spicy Caribbean dish. And Sam loves it as hot as you can make it. You should be able to get the ingredients there. It's mostly green onions and spices and peppers. Nothing too exotic."

"Well, exotic ain't a problem here."

"Isn't."

"Isn't a problem. You really are serious about grammar, _ain't_ ya?"

"I really am. And now you're just being, what did Sam call you? A goddamn asshole."

"Language, Mrs. Wilson!"

"I prefer profanity to bad grammar."

"Wow! My mom woulda washed my mouth out with soap for saying a lot less than that."

"I never washed out Sam's mouth with soap. Except once, when I found out he'd called the Puerto Rican boy across the hall a name. If there's one thing I hate worse than bad grammar, it's intolerance of any kind."

"You're a great woman, Mrs. Wilson."

"I'm really not. But I try to be. Now let me get you that jerk recipe."

* * *

"Hello."

"Hey, Mom."

"How are you, Sam."

"Happy and full. And I'm told I have you to thank for that."

"James made the jerk chicken?"

"He did. It was nearly as good as yours, and twice as hot."

"I told him you liked it spicy."

"He took you at your word. I loved it, and Bucky loved it, but I think it nearly killed Steve. What, man? I've never seen a human being go that shade of red before."

"Did you tell him drinking milk would help?"

"Yeah. Eventually. After I stopped laughing."

"I raised you better than that, Sam Wilson."

"You didn't see him, Mom. There's nothing funnier than Captain America turning the same red as the flag. Even you would have laughed your ass off."

"Did James laugh at the poor boy, too?"

"Nah. He got all concerned. He's the one who gave Steve the milk after I told him it would help."

"James is a good man."

"Yeah, he really is, Mom. They both are. Uh-oh. Now they're both looking at me like I'm Hydra. I was just agreeing with my mom that you're both good guys. Keep that up and I'll tell her what slobs you both are."

"Steve and James are _not_ slobs."

"You should share a house with them. Bucky leaves his socks all over the place. It's like he can't stand wearing them longer than he has to and they end up everywhere. And Steve never does his dishes. Never! If we're lucky, he leaves them in the sink! Oh, no. You don't get to take the phone away, Steve. Steve!"

"Mrs. Wilson, I want you to know that I always do my dishes. And if I don't, I at least rinse them off."

"I'm sure you do, Steve."

"Sam's right about Bucky, though. He's a total slob. His socks really do end up everywhere. Bucky, get off—"

"They're lying, Mrs. Wilson. My ma raised me to always pick up after myself. And anyway, socks are annoying."

"I'm sure your mom raised you right, James. And I'll tell you a secret. I don't much like socks either."

"Ha! Your mom believes me, Sam. And she doesn't like socks either. She loves me best. Sam! Don't you dare—"

"Got it! You don't really love James best, do you, Mom?"

"I love all my boys equally."

"Wait, aren't you supposed to love me best? On account of me being your son and all?"

"Equally, Sam. Look it up."

"Fine."

"It sounds like you're all doing well. James, especially."

"Give me a second. Don't look at me like that, Steve. Can't I have a little privacy with my mom?...Sorry, Mom. I just came into my room."

"Is there anything wrong?"

"No. God, no. I just wanted to talk without those two idiots staring at me. Things are really good. Bucky is doing so well. He still has nightmares, but the flashbacks are gone. He smiles all the time. It kills me what he's gone through, but I'm so glad he's coming out the other side."

"I'm glad he's doing well."

He's…he's such a good guy, Mom. He's taken over cooking. Every meal he tries to make us both something we love. Tonight he made the jerk chicken for me, and rice pudding for Steve from his mom's recipe. I thought Steve was going to cry when he tasted it."

"It sounds like-"

"Sounds like what?"

"It sounds like James is courting you. And like you might have another crush."

"No! No way! You're totally off base."

"Am I?"

"You are. I'm not getting between those two. Not for anything. And James is just being friendly. I don't know that he's up for much else, even with Steve."

"Okay. I believe you."

"You don't, really. I can tell."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Fine. Be that way. Now, why don't you tell me what Van's up to?"

* * *

"Hello, James."

"Hi, Mrs. Wilson."

"How's the cooking going?"

"Great! That's why I'm calling. I was wondering if I could get another recipe from you. But maybe one that's not so spicy this time."

"Steve can't handle the heat, huh?"

"Nope. Anything more than a mild curry and it looks like his eyes are going to boil right out of his head."

"We don't want that. I could give you my short ribs recipe. It's more sweet than spicy."

"Does Sam like it?"

"Sam loves it. Not as much as jerk chicken, maybe. But close."

"Then that would be perfect."

"Let me get my recipe box."

"I'll wait."

"That's okay. I can talk while I flip through the cards. Are you doing anything with your time besides cooking?"

"Reading. Steve's Stark Pad is loaded up with more books than the library back home, and I've been catching up on all the science fiction of the last seventy years. That's been real nice. And going for walks. Steve runs, and Sam goes with him most days, but I just like walking. I've had enough running."

"I'm sure you have."

"It's beautiful here. It's amazing how green it is, when it's so close to a city like Hong Kong. It's greener than the fields in England I saw during the war. And I didn't think anything could be greener than that."

"I've never been to England."

"It's beautiful. Better now that there aren't any bombs falling on it, I imagine."

"I imagine you're right."

"Maybe when I'm better, I can go back. Take Steve and Sam."

"Sam says you're doing better already. You certainly sound better."

"Yeah, I suppose I'm better than I was. Still got a long way to go, though."

"What will you do? When you're better. Besides take Steve and Sam to England."

"Honestly, I don't know. The only thing I do know is that I want out of the fighting. I've had enough of that to last two lifetimes."

"I imagine you have. I hope Sam feels the same. I was so glad when he left the Air Force. Finding out he'd fought in Washington, that scared me."

"I'm…I'm sorry about that. About what I did in Washington."

"No! I didn't bring it up to blame you, James. I know a bit of what you've gone through. I know you couldn't help it."

"I…"

"Tell me, what do you think Steve wants to do?"

"Steve? He'll probably keep punching assholes until the day he dies. Excuse my language. He was fighting jerks when he only weighed 98 pounds. I doubt he's going to stop now."

"What does that mean for the two of you?"

"God, I don't know. I don't think I've thought that far ahead."

"I'm sorry."

"No, it's all right. Maybe it's good for me to have a goal."

"So, what's your goal?"

"A little place in Brooklyn, maybe. Maybe where Steve can stay when he's not punching jerks."

"Does Sam have a spot in your little place in Brooklyn?"

"Sam? Yeah, I guess."

"What spot do _you_ want him to have?"

"Whatever spot he wants. Whatever he'll have. Sam's…he's special, Mrs. Wilson. I guess you know that."

"I do. It's nice to hear other people say it, though. I hope you get it, James. Your little place in Brooklyn."

"Thanks, Mrs. Wilson."

"Okay, now here's the short ribs recipe."

* * *

"Sam."

"Hey, Mom. I take it Bucky's been getting recipes from you again."

"He made the short ribs?"

'He made the short ribs. Just as good as yours. It's like he's giving me a little piece of home."

"That's a nice way to put it."

"He's a nice guy. A bit of an asshole sometimes, but otherwise he's… just…nice ."

"How nice are we talking, Sam?"

"Pretty nice."

"Are we talking boyfriend nice?"

"Mom!"

"I'd like to know if my boy is walking into trouble. Because you sound happy. And it's the sort of happy you sounded when you and Riley started dating. I just don't want to see you hurt."

"I'm not going to get hurt."

"But you're not denying the dating thing I notice. What about Steve? Because you said you didn't want to get into between those two boys. Is Steve getting hurt?"

"I guarantee that Steve is absolutely _not_ getting hurt."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm very sure, Mom."

"How can you be…Oh, God. Don't tell me you have two super soldier boyfriends?"

"I'm not telling you anything."

"You have two super soldier boyfriends."

"I'm confirming nothing."

"Who are both white boys."

"I'm denying everything."

"With your history of picking the worst white boys."

"Bucky and Steve are the _best_ white boys."

"They're super soldiers from World War II. They're older than me."

"Count the time they've been awake and they're younger than _me_."

"How did this even happen?"

"I'm not having this conversation, Mom."

"I don't think I want to have this conversation, either."

"Then we agree."

"Two!"

"Mom."

"Sam."

"I know. I know it must sound weird. Or maybe wrong. But somehow, it works."

"How? How can it possibly work?"

"Alone, we're all broken. But together, we fix each other's flaws."

"Oh, Sam…But you are happy?"

"Yeah, I really am."

"Are they?"

"You'd have to ask them, but I think they are."

"Well, okay. But let me just say one thing. I already told you I don't want to see you hurt. But I don't want to see James hurt, either. Or Steve. Take care of them, Sam. Keep their hearts safe."

"I…I will, Mom. I absolutely will."

"Good. That's all I need to know. Now tell me about what you're getting up to on your Hong Kong island."

* * *

"Mrs. Wilson?"

"Hello Steve. How are you?"

"I'm…fine. You've never called me before. Is everything okay?"

"Yes! Absolutely."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"I didn't mean to worry you. I just wanted…"

"What is it?"

"I…This is harder than I thought it would be."

"You can say anything to me, Mrs. Wilson. I hope you know that."

"Okay. You know I talked to Sam yesterday?"

"He mentioned it."

"Did he tell you what we talked about?"

"He didn't."

"Oh. Well, that makes this harder."

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong? Is there anything I can do?"

"No! There's nothing wrong. Just…I need to tell you something but I'm not quite sure how to say it."

"I don't always do it myself, but being direct seems to works best."

"Okay. Then, I wanted to tell you, I approve."

"You approve?"

"And you have my blessing."

"Your blessing? For…oh. You mean…"

"Yes, that's exactly what I mean."

"Well. Um. Thank you, Mrs. Wilson. That means a lot."

"Sam's my only boy, Steve. Don't hurt him. Him or James."

"I'd never do that. They both mean the world to me. After I woke up, Sam was the first person who didn't treat me either like a superhero or a weapon. And Bucky, I've known him so long, he's part of me."

"I know you mean the world to them, too, Steve. And I want to see you all, once you're back in the States."

"If you're sure."

"I'm sure."

"That's…that's great, Mrs. Wilson."

"You look after yourself, Steve."

* * *

"Hey, Mrs. Wilson."

"James! How are you?"

"Good. Kinda great, actually. Steve told me about your call."

"I hope you're not upset I called him first. I was working up to calling you next. It just felt like…"

"Like you needed to give him the shovel talk?"

"The what?!"

"That's what Sam called it. The 'don't hurt my boy or I'll kill you' talk."

"I didn't say 'or I'll kill you.'"

"Steve seemed to think that was implied."

"And I think it was more 'don't hurt my boys.' Plural. "

"You don't have to say-"

"I mean it, James. Sam's my blood, but it seems like you've already had enough hurt to last a lifetime. You deserve your happiness."

"I've found that. Thanks, Mrs. Wilson."

"Are you ever going to call me Darlene?"

"Nope."

"I'll wear you down eventually."

"I've been told I'm pretty stubborn. By the most stubborn guy in the universe."

"I bet I can out-stubborn that stubborn guy."

"I can't wait for you to meet Steve face-to-face."

"I hope that's soon. Any idea when you're coming back to the States?"

"Nothing definite. Steve's been talking to Howard's kid. I've got some…history there, but he's helping us with the legal stuff."

"Howard's kid? You mean Tony Stark?"

"That's the one."

"You knew Howard Stark."

"Don't sound so impressed. The guy was a pain in the ass. Though I'll give you, he was smart. His kid is even smarter."

"So everyone says."

"He keeps saying he wants to take a look at my arm. Makes me feel like I'm a science experiment to him."

"Don't let anyone do anything you're not comfortable with. Not even Tony Stark."

"Don't worry. Like I said, I'm almost as stubborn as Steve. And I've got Steve backing me up."

"And Sam."

"And Sam. Speaking of which, I'm looking for something new to cook. Ya got any other recipes he likes?"

"Let me get my recipe box and I'll give you a couple of options."

* * *

"Are you trying to fatten me up?"

"Hello, Sam."

"Giving Bucky all my favourite recipes. You must be trying to fatten me up."

"You always seem a bit skinny to me. Maybe James thinks that, too."

"I've never been skinny, Mom."

"When you were fifteen, you were a stick."

"Okay, maybe then. But that was nearly two decades ago. If you keep up the culinary conspiracy with Bucky, I'm going to be outright pudgy."

"You're exaggerating."

"If Steve didn't haul my ass out of bed every morning to go for a run, I wouldn't fit in my clothes anymore."

"You didn't call just to complain about my recipes and James' cooking did you?"

"No. Even if it'd serve you right."

"Why did you call?"

"We're coming back to the States."

"You are! When are you getting back? When can you come to Harlem?"

"Calm down, Mom. We won't be going to New York right away. Nat is flying us back tomorrow and Tony is putting us up in his house in Malibu. It'll give Bucky a soft landing into the States and give Tony a chance to get all the legal problems out of the way. It turns out that the legal problems that exist when you spent 70 years as a brainwashed assassin are considerable."

"Will he be okay? They won't send him to jail, will they?"

"Tony thinks his lawyers have it in hand. And Steve will probably punch out the government if they try to lock Bucky up. So, I think he'll be okay. It'll just take time, and we've got plenty of that."

"That's good. You tell Tony's lawyers that if they want a character witness for James, they can call on me. I do a mean kindly retired teacher routine."

"You'd do that? Without even meeting him?"

"Of course I'd do that. I've been talking to him all this time. I think I know him by now, even if we haven't met in person. That poor boy has been through enough. It's time he had some good luck, and more people in his corner."

"Aw, that's real nice, Mom."

"I try. You let me know when you're back in the country. And when you can come for a visit."

"I will."

* * *

"Hello Steve."

"Hello Mrs. Wilson. Sam asked me to call you. To let you know we're in California."

"That's great news. Where _is_ Sam?"

"He's helping Bucky get settled. The flight over…it was a bit hard on Buck."

"Hard? How hard? Is he okay?"

"He's not so bad. In his words, he didn't enjoy getting locked in a tin can for five hours. Not that I blame him. A quinjet is fast, but it's not designed for comfort. We might've been better off taking Tony's private jet."

"I'm just going to sit for a moment with the fact that my son could be taking Tony Stark's private jet."

"Private jets sound better than they are. They've got nicer seats than a quinjet, but they're a lot smaller."

"Another illusion dashed. Is James really doing okay?"

"He will be. I think staying here for a bit will help. It's pretty peaceful. There's no one else around, and the house overlooks the ocean. We can watch the sun set from the living room."

"Sounds like just what James needs. You tell him I'm thinking of him. And tell them both to call me when he can."

"I will, Mrs. Wilson."

* * *

"Sam!"

"Hi Mom."

"How are you? How is James? Is he okay? I've been worried about him since Steve called."

"He's…he's better."

"I thought he was okay. He sounded okay when you were in Hong Kong."

"Yeah, well you know, recovery isn't linear. Some days are good; some days are bad. He's had a bad couple of days. He had a few flashbacks after the flight here. Nothing as bad as that first one, but bad enough. Seems like the quinjet was close to the kind of transport the Russians used to use."

"Are you looking after him? Tell me you're looking after him."

"Of course, Mom. Me and Steve both. And we've got a hell of a place to do it. This place is amazing. The ocean is right outside our window. You can hear the surf as you fall asleep."

"Did James manage to sleep last night?"

"A bit."

"A bit?"

"So he says, anyway."

"You make sure he gets some sleep. And that he's eating properly."

"I don't think eating is a problem. He's still insisting on doing most of the cooking. I get to be his assistant when he needs something chopped. He still won't let Steve anywhere near the kitchen."

"Cooking isn't eating."

"I know, Mom. I'll keep an eye on him."

"You do that, Sam."

* * *

"James?"

"Hi, Mrs. Wilson. I hope I didn't wake you up. Sam says you get up early."

"You didn't, and I do. I'm just having my morning coffee. It's good to hear your voice."

"It's good to hear yours, too, Mrs. Wilson."

"It must be the middle of the night there."

"Kinda."

"Is there something wrong? Sam and Steve tell me you've had a bad few days."

"Yeah, well…I suppose."

"Anything you want to tell me."

"Not really. I just don't much like flying anymore."

"Did something wake you up, or couldn't you sleep at all?"

"I woke up. Didn't want to go back to sleep."

"Was it a nightmare?"

"Yeah."

"You okay now?"

"No."

"Would it help to tell me about it?" 

"I…I don't think I should. It feels like that would make it more real."

"Then what can I do to help, James?"

"Could we just…talk? I didn't want to wake up Steve and Sam, but I thought it might help to hear another voice. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course I don't mind. You call any time you need to. I don't care what time it is."

"Thanks, Mrs. Wilson."

"What would you like to talk about?"

"How about baking? I want to try more of that."

"Baking it is. My neighbour gave me a recipe for strudel I've always wanted to try."

"Let me go to the kitchen. Maybe I can bake it now, have it ready for Sam and Steve for breakfast. Stark's kitchen is stocked with just about everything."

"I'll get my recipe box."

"Ya know, I can't wait to see this recipe box of yours."

"I hope I'm more than a recipe box to you."

"Of course, Mrs. Wilson. You're the nicest person I know."

"You don't have to say that."

"But it's true. You're as nice as my ma was."

"I will take that as an enormous compliment."

"That's how I meant it."

"Now let's see if you have the ingredients you need."

* * *

"I think you've found a second career. Cooking instructor therapist."

"Hello to you, too, Sam."

"I'm serious, Mom. I was beginning to really worry about Bucky again, but one morning baking with you and he's so much better."

"I'm glad to hear it."

"I was a bit confused about your choice of recipe, though. Strudel, Mom? That's not one of my favourites."

"Don't tell me you didn't like the strudel. Mrs. Mueller next door gave me that recipe and I know it was excellent."

"It's okay."

"It's better than okay. James and I both made a batch. I shared it with the neighbours and they all loved it. Mrs. Mueller said it was as good as hers."

"Fine. It was better than okay."

"How is everything else going? Will you be coming east soon?"

"Maybe. The lawyers are still working on Bucky's complications. And Tony found a therapist here that Bucky trusts. She's been over a few times. That's helping him a lot. Combine that with your cooking therapy--"

"Baking therapy."

"Okay, baking therapy. I think he'll be fine."

"Any chance you'll make it to New York?"

"Soon."

"How soon?"

"Soon-ish? I don't know, Mom. When the lawyers say it's okay, and Bucky's therapist says it's okay, and Bucky says he's ready to move. I don't think any of us want him in a plane before he's ready for it."

"Okay. I just…I really want to see my boys."

"Boys? Plural?"

“I feel like James and Steve are my boys, too.”

“Oh, no. You are _not_ adopting my boyfriends.“

“If they're your boyfriends, then they're practically my sons-in-law. And that means I can definitely adopt them.”

“Don't sound so smug, Mom.”

“I'm not smug. I'm just...happy for you. For all of you.”

“Are you really?”

“I really am.”

“I'm glad. I've been worried about that. I know this isn't what you would have chosen for me...”

“They're good men, Sam. Both of them. I can see that. I can see that they're good for you. And that you're good for them.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You're welcome. Now you just work at helping Bucky get better so I can see all of you soon.”

* * *

“Hello, James.”

“Hey, Mrs. Wilson.”

“It's early here again. Are you in need of more baking therapy?”

“Maybe? A bit?”

“Have another nightmare?”

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, baking it is. How about bread? Kneading is pretty much like punching dough, if that sounds like something you might want to do.”

“Punching dough sounds like a really great idea.”

“Okay, then you need to check if Tony Stark's fancy pantry has any yeast in it.”

“It's got everything else. I'll bet it's got yeast.”

“Great. Let's get started.”

* * *

“Steve! How are you?”

“I'm good.”

“You don't sound good. Is there something wrong?”

“No! No, it's...there's nothing wrong.”

“But there's something...”

“I wanted to tell you that it looks like we'll be coming to New York soon.”

“That's wonderful! I can't wait for you to visit.”

“Well, that's the thing, Mrs. Wilson. I'm not sure about us visiting.”

“Why ever not?”

“Actually, it's Bucky who's not sure.”

“What?”

“He's worried. That you won't want him under your roof.”

“That's ridiculous! Why would he think that? I've been asking him to visit for ages.”

“Well, the lawyers have worked everything out and we'll be heading to Washington. There's paperwork to sign.”

“I don't see why—”

“There's going to be a formal announcement. Probably a press conference.”

“I still don't—”

“Things are going to come out. Things Bucky did for Hydra. Ugly things. And Bucky, he's worried that you'll hate him after that.”

“Oh.”

“I told him he's wrong...He _is_ wrong, isn't he?”

“Of course he's wrong! I've known all along what James has been through. I know it wasn't anything he would have chosen to do.”

“I _told_ him that. But he's afraid he'll disappoint you and he won't listen.”

“Is he there?”

“Yeah.”

“Put him on the phone. Right now.”

“Mrs. Wilson?”

“James, I want you to listen to me right now. I don't care what was done to you; I don't care what those people made you do. I care about _you_. And I want to see you here in Harlem as soon as you're able to come.”

“I...thank you, Mrs. Wilson.”

“You're welcome, James. Now, could you put Steve back on the phone?”

“Hey.”

“You look after him, Steve. Don't let anyone hurt him. And you bring him home safe to me as soon as you can.”

“Yes, ma'am.”

* * *

“Hey, Mom.”

“Is it over? Is James okay? Can you come visit now?”

“Hold up, Mom! One question at a time.”

“Fine. Is James okay?”

“He's okay. He's just...he's tired. It's been a long couple of days.”

“I saw the start of the press conference. He looked nervous.”

“He was nervous. Steve told him he didn't have to answer anything that made him uncomfortable, but he was still nervous.”

“But he's okay?”

“He's okay. We're heading up to New York tomorrow. Tony's going to put us up in the Tower until we figure things out.”

“You're coming here.”

“No, it's okay.”

“I have waited long enough to look after you all. You're going to come here. James and I can cook, and James can sleep, and you can show Steve the neighbourhood. When you're all recovered, _then_ you can go stay in Tony Stark's fancy tower.”

“Mom, it's—“

“You're coming. I already bought the biggest air mattress I could find and set it up in your old room. I've done some baking, and I'll cook everyone's favourite food, and I'll even keep your sisters and your aunties away for now. But you're coming.”

“I don't know if Steve and Bucky—“

“You're coming _home_. All of you.”

“Mom...”

“Yes, Sam?”

“I guess we're coming home.”

* * *

Darlene Wilson wakes up with the sunrise. She did it when she was teaching, and she does it now that she's retired. Today is no different.

She puts on her robe and slippers, and goes down to the kitchen. She puts on the coffee that she ground last night ( _no need to wake the boys with her loud ass grinder_ ), grabs the paper from the front porch, and settles at the kitchen table to read the news. 

The front page has a picture of James leaving the Pentagon, looking as skittish as he had during the little of the press conference she'd been able to watch, and with a headline that's more inflammatory than she'd expect from the Times. She flips past the front page and the stories inside that talk about James' press conference, that outline his history. She skips the opinion page entirely, afraid the letters condemning James Buchanan Barnes as a war criminal will outnumber the ones supporting him. Once she's done, she drops the whole paper in the recycling bin out back. She buries it under three cereal boxes, so the boys won't see it. She's offered her house as a refuge to them, her son and his boyfriends. She'll hold the world at bay for them as long as she can.

Even after having talked to them both for all these months, Steve and James aren't quite what she expected.

At the press conference she couldn't bear to watch all of, Steve had been every inch Captain Rogers in his dress uniform, complete with a chest full of medals and ribbons. He'd handled all of the most outrageous questions with a calm that had impressed Darlene. She'd have decked some of those Fox News assholes for the things they'd asked James.

James had worn an impeccably tailored suit that she'd bet Tony Stark had a hand in supplying, his hair tamed into a neat ponytail. He was almost of a size with Steve, but he'd seemed much smaller, as if he was trying to squeeze himself into less space than would fit him, trying to evade notice. She'd told Sam he'd looked nervous at the press conference, but it was more than that. He'd looked terrified, as if he was afraid everything he'd fought to get back could be taken away from him by the baying pack of reporters in front of him. It was the terror in his eyes that had made her switch off the television, and that had her burying the paper in her recycling bin, the letters page unread.

When they'd shown up on her doorstep yesterday evening, Captain Rogers had turned back into Steve, wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a leather jacket, a ball cap on his head, a duffle bag held lightly in one hand. He'd extended his hand to her, then blushed when she'd pulled him into a hug.

James had looked even more different from the frightened man on her TV. He'd changed from a suit into jeans, with a softly-worn army surplus jacket over a burgundy t-shirt. He had an olive-coloured scarf wound around his neck and a knapsack slung over one shoulder. His hair was pulled into a bun, with strands escaping from it into his eyes. There had been leather and beaded bracelets circling his right wrist, and black gloves covering both hands. He'd no longer looked terrified, but had hung back on her porch, as if he still hadn't been sure of his welcome.

Darlene had reached out without hesitation and pulled him into a gentle hug. He'd been tense at first, his jaw clenched tight, but he'd finally relaxed when she'd patted his back and whispered “Welcome home” in his ear.

She'd saved her hug for Sam to the last. Her baby boy had looked content, wearing jeans and a jacket and a ball cap, just like Steve. She'd grabbed him and held him tightly in her arms. 

“Thanks, Mom,” he'd said, then hugged her back just as hard.

She'd fed them dinner—a pot roast she'd put on earlier in the afternoon, the homiest meal she could think of—and then all three of them had practically wilted where they sat. Steve had insisted on helping her clean up, but Sam and James had been more than happy to disappear upstairs. Super soldier or not, she'd seen how exhausted Steve had been from the day he'd had and had sent him up as soon as the last dish was dried and put away.

She'd let them alone after that, not even peeking in to say goodnight when she'd gone to bed herself.

Now, she thinks she hears someone stirring upstairs. 

She takes her cup of coffee and creeps up the stairs, her slippered feet nearly soundless on the carpeted risers. Outside Sam's old room, she knocks lightly on the door. It swings open under her touch.

All three of her boys are sleeping, sprawled on the air mattress she'd bought the other day. Sam and Steve curl around James, as if even in sleep they're determined to protect him. She reaches out to close the door, wanting to let them sleep, to recover from what the last few days have taken from them.

She's careful and quiet, but the low creak of the door startles Steve awake. He's immediately alert and vigilant, prepared to tackle whatever enemy threatens them. When he sees her, he frowns.

She freezes for a moment, afraid that he'll think she's invading their privacy, but then he relaxes and smiles at her. She smiles back and touches her fingers to her lips.

Steve nods, and as she closes the door softly behind her, she sees Steve pulling James closer to him, adjusting the blankets over her son.

She takes her coffee into the living room, settling into her favourite chair to watch the morning routines of the neighbourhood. She sees the postman deliver mail across the street as Mr. Beatty waves at her on his way to work. Mrs. Georgeokopoulos sweeps off her front stoop as the Allen twins skip by on their way to school.

She's finishing the last of her coffee when she hears Sam's footsteps behind her and turns. Her firstborn is wearing a pair of flannel sleeping pants and an Airforce sweatshirt, and carrying his own mug of coffee. He pads across the room, slouching onto the couch across from her, and taking a satisfied sip from the mug.

“Are you happy?” she asks.

For a moment, Sam doesn't move, doesn't say anything, and a spark of worry flares in her heart. But then his eyes crinkle, and a wide grin, full of joy, spreads across his face.

“Yeah, Mom. I'm happy.” He doesn't need to say the words. If she has any misgivings left about her son taking up with two white boys—two _super soldiers_ , for goodness sake—they vanish in the face of that smile.

“Good,” she says with a nod, already planning out the day ahead of her. She'll make pancakes for breakfast, then show James her recipe box. She'll let him choose their meals for the week, then send Sam and Steve out for groceries. She and James can take over the kitchen, while Sam and Steve read or sleep or do whatever they want.

They love Sam, these only sons of Sarah Rogers and Winifred Barnes. In return, she'll look out for them, taking care of them in Sarah and Winifred's place. They're her boys now. All three of them.


End file.
